The Devil You Know
by KyrieofAccender
Summary: Kate Dawson, a 21st century girl, is dropped directly into the events of The Crucible, and she struggles against the fear and panic of the Salem Witch Trials to turn the tides to the side of reason. Oneshot.


A/N: Hello again! I've been away from here for quite a while... no time for fanfiction, I'm afraid.(sigh)

In any case, here I am. This is a one-shot I wrote as a project for my AP English class - and for which I received an A+ (yay yay yay yay!!!) so I really hope you like it. When I began it, I wanted it to be a parody of The Crucible - I wanted my modern character to drop in and say "look, there's no bird up there, you idiots, these girls are pulling the wool over your eyes!" But as I wrote it, I began to realize that absolutely nothing would have swayed these people once they were scared enough, and the story took a sharp turn...

Reviews - questions, comments, concerns, and critiques - are very, very much appreciated!

* * *

The Devil You Know

_I'm sure you've heard more than enough of those "__hit over the head__" types of dream stories, but I doubt you know just how scary they can really be to experience firsthand. I'll bet you say that I'm making all this up, that I'm pulling your leg, but just you wait and see. I__ thought I could change things, I thought that I, with my knowledge of the event, could fix everything__…__ I learned that there's nothing that can sway people once they are afraid and vengeful;__ and I swear, I will never look at those 'boring old Puritans' the same way again. _

Kate Dawson sat quietly in one of the cushy auditorium seats, oblivious to the rehearsal of "Fame" occurring on the stage in front of her. She was fully engrossed in reading act III of "The Crucible" for class the next day. Grinning, she nearly was squirming in her seat at Abigail's vile manipulation of everyone around her. _Think you so mighty that the power of Hell may not turn _your _wits? _she read; her eyebrows rose as Proctor loudly accused her for a whore.

This was certainly getting exciting…

"KATE!"

Kate jerked up less at the sound of her name and more at the fact that it was Dan's – the director's – very, very angry voice that was shouting it.

"Onstage now, Kate," he snapped at her.

Immediately, she dropped her book and scrambled up to the stage, her cheeks burning with embarrassment. She hadn't even heard him say that her part of the cast was supposed to be running blocking just then…

Her fellow cast members glared at her as she took her place; now Dan was going to be angry at them, and it was all her fault. Didn't she know it was only three weeks till opening? Didn't she know how easily aggravated Dan was? Didn't she know _anything_?

Sheepishly, Kate waited for her first cue and began her few lines, inwardly fuming that her cast had so quickly ostracized her right from the beginning of rehearsals. What did they think she was, a witch?

It was only five minutes later that someone called her name again, this time in fear. As Kate had been reading, she must have missed the explanation on the way the set would move and how the actors needed to skirt around it, because as she backed up she tripped over someone's foot and fell backwards, hitting her head hard on the ballet barre behind her. Everything went black.

A few moments later, Kate groaned loudly, wondering why Dan wasn't roaring at her yet. She rolled over, ready to push herself to her feet, when she realized that there were leaves and grass crunching softly under her as she moved.

Her eyes snapped open, and a moment later her jaw dropped. She wasn't on the stage. She was lying by the side of a dirt road, halfway in the trees. How could that _possibly_ have happened? She shook her head vigorously to clear it, but when she opened her eyes again no stage had appeared. Completely mind boggled, she bolted to her feet and onto the road. As she moved, she felt the rustle of more than one layer of fabric against her legs; when she looked down, she discovered that her sweatpants and t-shirt had been replaced with a plain, dark blue dress…

"I am going insane," she muttered, utterly bewildered, putting a hand to her head.

Almost as soon as her hand touched the crown of her head, she yanked it away again, holding a foreign scrap of fabric in her hand. She had to stare at the floppy thing for a long moment before she recognized it as one of the ridiculous looking bonnet things that Puritan women used to wear. Nervously, she reached up again to find that her bright red hair had been neatly tied back.

"I didn't do that… and why am I wearing Puritan clothes out in the middle of God knows where?" she said to herself, circling nervously. This particular dream was beginning to scare her… she wondered when she would wake up.

Suddenly, she heard voices a short way down the road. She froze, not knowing who was coming or whether to hide. But it was only a dream, she couldn't be hurt… right?

"Abby, wait up!" a little girl cried; Kate could hear a great deal of footsteps coming closer.

"Hurry up, Ruth," an older girl snapped harshly. "Martha Corey's set to be condemned today."

When the combination of names hit her, Kate turned completely white. Clearly, she was not in Kansas anymore! Quickly, she jammed the dopey bonnet thing back onto her head, remembering that she'd read somewhere that red hair was a sign of witchcraft… it would be better to hide from those crazy girls. She turned…

But before she could run, someone had spotted her.

"Who are you?" Abigail said, halting the procession of girls behind her as she looked the newcomer up and down.

"K-Kate Dawson," she answered automatically, although more than a little nervously. Here she was, standing face to face with the most twisted girl in all of fictiondom…

_Fiction. It's fiction, Kate, only fiction. It's a dream! Remember that. _

"Who?" Abby said, lowering an eyebrow. She knew no Kate Dawson…

"I… um… I'm from… Andover. I'm…" God, why was she trying to please this wretch? She ought to walk right up and smack her for what she was doing to innocent people! "I'm the preacher's niece," she finally supplied. Well, it was true… she did have an uncle who was a priest… he was Catholic, though. Better not mention that… "I must have lost him and my father on the way here…"

She tensed when she fell silent from her nervous blithering and saw a light of devious excitement in Abby's cold eyes. Nervously, she pulled her bonnet further down over her red hair. What was Abigail planning now? Did she, maybe, think to use her as well as all the rest of the girls to condemn innocent people? Did she think that maybe a stranger and another girl related to a holy man might convince the court further?

Well, she would put her foot down, she would refuse, she would-

"Come with us into Salem," Abigail said, smiling and sounding kind. "Mary Warren is sick in bed today; we could use your help. Surely one such as you would understand what holy work we do."

"I… I should wait here… for my dad- my father…" she corrected herself quickly, not wanting to confuse her meaning with modern slang, and yet wanting to stay out of it without offending Abigail into the "I have seen some reddish work done at night" speech.

"They'll catch us up, I'm sure," Abby reassured her. The other girls were watching them, half in anticipation and half in irritation. Who was this stranger that their ringleader took such a liking to her at once?

"Really, I-"

"Abb_ee_, we'll be _late_!" one of the girls moaned.

"I insist," Abigail told her with a snakelike smile, taking her arm and steering her along the road.

Kate's head was spinning. So, Mary Warren was sick… that meant that she had dropped right into act III of the play, right into the spot she had been reading during rehearsal.

Right when everything went wrong for Abby… they'd read it aloud in class, she already knew that what would happen today would get Proctor hanged. Should she say something? Maybe she could change what happened…

But what could she say that wouldn't get her accused?

She could help Mary Warren! Maybe she could defend Mary, maybe if someone sensible stood by her, it would be all right and Abby would be proven for the fraud she was.

Concealing her nerves, Kate looked up at Abigail as she was dragged along. The other girl turned to her and smiled again, but it was a false smile, one given by someone who was not to be trusted, someone who was only kind because it suited them.

"Come, friend," she said to Kate, pulling her along faster.

Oh, if only she dared risk the wrath of Abigail Williams… she would set her heels in the dirt and not move another step. Why was she so afraid? She allowed herself to be dragged along, although she kept up a constant mantra of protest in her mind: _I will not accuse them, I will not, I will not, I will not_…

* * *

"Now, Martha Corey, there is abundant evidence in our hands to show that you have given yourself to the reading of fortunes. Do you deny it?"

Kate sat very still, her arms folded across her chest. Much to her displeasure, she found herself seated between Abigail and the girl called Mercy Lewis, the one who had complained about being late. They sat apart from the proceedings now, thank goodness, but during them she had sat determinedly still and straight-faced, even when Abby had shot her a murderous glare. Danforth had said nothing about her unusual lack of fits, but she had lacked the courage to speak up against the girls' faints and cold skin. Now, however, sandwiched between these two innocent killers, she did feel cold.

"You're hearing lies, lies!" a gruff man's voice shouted. That must be Giles… things were moving along. Was there some way she could get away from the accusers and stand with Mary Warren, to support her? No… not with Abby watching her from the corner of her eye all the time. _She must be wondering whether it was a mistake to bring me in_, Kate thought. At that, she had to conceal a triumphant smirk. Maybe her plan would work after all.

All she had to do now was wait.

"Excellency, we have proof for your eyes; God forbid you shut them to it. The girls, sir, the girls are frauds."

At that, everyone in their little antechamber turned to Abby, who had gone white with… what? Anger? Fear? Kate could not read her.

"It's Francis Nurse what's accusing us!" the little girl, Ruth Putnam, said in a loud, nervous whisper.

"Whatever anyone charges us with is a lie," Abigail said commandingly. "Act just as before; follow me. And you," she rounded on Kate angrily, "You had best cry spirits as well, if you don't want anyone to see what's under that pretty little bonnet of yours."

Kate froze, pulling the bonnet further over her head. Her hair… how had Abigail noticed her hair under the hat?

It's a dream, she reminded herself fervently. Some kind of twisted dream. She can't hurt you! It doesn't matter!

Then why was her stomach writhing with dread?

"Why are you doing this? What gain is there in hanging the people of your town?" she said boldly.

The other girls only blinked dumbly at her for a long while before one of them dared answer.

"I have four brothers at home," the girl said – Susanna Walcott, perhaps? "The only girl in a family never gets attention. They say we're holy now, they do! My family pays attention to what I say now!"

"Some of these women are wicked old people that find fault with everything I do!" another added in.

"Quiet! All of you!" It was Abby who had spoken, of course. "We do God's work, and you know it. Those people are witches and hypocrites; they all conduct themselves like saints when they are really all servants of the Devil! We are here to cleanse the world of the likes of them."

The room fell silent again, until Kate spoke up softly.

"It won't work, Abigail," she said quietly. "He won't play along with this. He's there now, can't you hear him? He told you… he's going to fight you. You can't have him if he's dead. And he-"

Kate was suddenly silenced and knocked violently to the floor by a hard clout to the side of her face from Abby's palm.

"Listen, you," she snarled, shaking with rage. "I know not how you tell these things to me, but you lie just as much as the rest of them. If you do not want hangin' yourself, you had better just stay silent and act like the others, or I'll accuse you!"

Kate fell silent; there would be no getting through to the girl. She must have truly lost her wits all together.

The girls all listened intently; when Mary Warren's name was mentioned, and heard her words against them, a furious web of whispers spread around them like a harsh wind. Tension hung in the air; Kate waited impatiently. Any time now…

The voices in the court grew louder, more fervent. The man one of them had identified as Hale was speaking now.

"But this child claims the girls are not truthful, and if they are not-"

"That is precisely what I am about to consider, sir," came the icily calm voice of Danforth. The man had terrified Kate from the instant she'd seen him first in court that morning. "What more may you ask of me? Unless you doubt my probity?"

"I surely do not, sir. Let you consider it, then."

"And let you put your heart to rest." The proceedings were inaudible for a moment, until Danforth spoke again, shouting this time. "Mr. Parris, I bid you be silent! Mr. Cheever, will you go into the court and bring the children here?"

When Cheever entered the room a minute later, Kate nearly jumped to her feet. This time, she would do something to help, she would! She filed into place with the others, sandwiched beside Abigail once again. She twisted her hands together nervously, trying to remember the exact course of the lines that would follow… the best place to leap in to save Mary Warren.

As Danforth, that hateful, vile, terrifying man, explained Mary's accusation to the girls, Kate tried to catch her eye, to smile at her, reassure her in any way she could. But Mary stood apart from everyone, nearly doubled over as though she were about to be ill, shaking with fright. She saw the poor girl flinch horribly when Danforth pronounced that her neck would break for lying.

By the time Abby was called forward, Kate was both ready to cry at poor Mary's plight and ready to knock Abigail's feet right out from under her. How could she destroy so many people the way she was, and even one of her own friends!

Proctor was getting angry now… things were speeding up. Kate sat at the edge of her seat, keenly wanting someone to give her a proper cue…

"There might also be a dragon with five legs in my house, but no one has ever seen it."

At that, she had to suppress a giggle; that line had always made her laugh.

"We are here, Your Honor, precisely to discover what no one has ever seen." _Parris, you scum_, Kate growled inwardly, wishing she really could send her spirit on him and make him hear just what she thought about him.

"Mr. Danforth, what profit this girl to turn herself about? What may Mary Warren gain but hard questioning and worse?"

"You are charging Abigail Williams with a marvelous cool plot to murder, do you understand that?"

"I do, sir. I believe she means to murder." _Go for it, Proctor! Tell them everything!_ she cheered silently. _I'll help make them believe you_.

But no, he wasn't quite ready for that, yet… it was his last weapon, wasn't it? Come on, John Proctor, show everyone your goodness!

Aside from the arguing voices, the courtroom was eerily silent. Kate remembered reading something about the rest of the court being on recess… good. She didn't need anyone jeering at poor Mary as she tried to tell the truth. She could almost feel Abigail's tense preparedness as she stood stiff and straight a little in front of her. In another time, she would have made a superb actress…

It was then that she began her act again, somehow pretending to freeze from some invisible wind. The others fell into hysterics; Kate stayed calmly seated. Proctor caught her eye and gave her a curious look, but he turned away quickly. He had more important things to deal with; he had just heard Abby call Heaven.

His cry of "whore!" seemed to ring from the very rafters as the rest of the room fell utterly silent, staring at him in shock. Even the great Abigail looked undone.

They were calling for Elizabeth now… oh, God. There was nothing she could do as she watched Elizabeth Proctor struggle under the questions Danforth – the filthy monster – set for her except wait still longer. Mary Warren… it was her job to help Mary.

She had never before had a stranger dream…

"Excellency, it is a natural lie to tell!" Hale cried as Elizabeth was ushered away.

Kate braced herself. She hated to ruin her favorite scene, but here was her chance. Abigail screamed, interrupting Hale; the Bird Hysteria had begun.

As the girls cowered in a corner away from the golden bird, shrieking and screaming bloody murder, Kate calmly walked to Mary Warren's side.

"Abby, I'm _here!_" she shouted; not loud enough to be heard over the din.

Kate tilted her head up towards the rafters; once she was positive there was no bird there, she opened her mouth and let out a scream of her own, louder than the others.

"THEY'RE ALL LYING!" she shouted.

Even Abby fell silent at that.

"There's nothing there!" she cried, pointing. "Look, sir, there's nothing! They're all making it up!"

Danforth looked, but the girls took advantage of the silence to keep up their whimpering. Kate rolled her eyes and turned to Mary. The girl was huddled on the floor, shaking uncontrollably.

"Mary Warren…" she said to her, smiling when the poor child turned her terrified eyes towards her. "Just keep telling the truth. I'll help you – I know you and Proctor are right."

"I cannot… they will kill me if I do… I cannot, I cannot…"

"You _can, _Mary, you must! Proctor will hang if you do not! You have to tell the truth! It is evil to allow this to happen... it is good to stop it! Please, Mary!"

There was another scream from Abigail, behind them.

"There she is again! The wings! Her wings are spreading! Mary, please, don't, don't-!"

"Abby!"

"Just remember, Mary, tell them the truth!"

"Look out, she's coming down!"

"Mary!" Kate was shaking the girl now, trying to make her listen; why was her attempt to help failing? She should have done something sooner… but she was a coward!

Just like Mary.

Suddenly Mary had broken away from her, and from Proctor too. The only voice screaming now was her own.

"You're the Devil's man!" she cried, tears streaming down her cheeks.

Through the pandemonium that followed, Kate could not even take pleasure at the shocked look on Abigail's face. She tried to speak up, to defend the man, but no one would listen!

Finally, as Hale stormed out after Proctor was 'escorted' to prison, she could get in a word.

"Enough!" she shouted, nearly as hysterical as the other girls were now. "This is enough! You call yourself a judge, Danforth? You are a wretched, monstrous man! They're all lying! All of them! Proctor is telling you the truth, why would he blacken his name elsewise? You have to listen to him! You should have stopped this from the start! It is you who'll burn for this, not Proctor!"

Then, suddenly, Abigail was behind her; she grabbed the back of Kate's head and wrenched off the bonnet, somehow managing to yank her hair loose as well. She screamed as Abby's nails ripped along her scalp, but then the girl tore away, leaving Kate's flaming, wild red hair in full view… the sure sign of a witch.

The other girls all fell into their routine of screaming instantly.

"No! No, I'm not a witch! Abigail's the witch! She's not the saint she pretends to be! No!"

But nobody heard her. The shouts and screams and frenzied wails had reached a fever pitch, bone chilling in intensity… one might have thought the girls themselves were the tortured spirits. All she could hear besides that was her own voice and Danforth's, urging for her to be taken to prison with the other witches.

"No, I'm not a witch! No!" she screamed, feeling as though her throat would tear. She writhed and kicked against the men dragging her.

Suddenly there were other voices amongst the clamor, voices that sounded more concerned than frenzied.

"Kate! Kate, are you all right?" someone cried.

Then someone slapped her face; Kate jerked, and opened her eyes. She was lying on the floor of the stage, surrounded by her fellow actors. She fought back the urge to vomit.

"Are you okay? Jesus, you are white!"

Everyone stared nervously down at her, as though wondering whether she would keel over. Kate didn't answer; she merely curled up with her knees pressed into her chest and began to rock slowly back and forth, her eyes wide and terrified, muttering softly.

"Our Father, who art in Heaven, hallowed be Thy name…"


End file.
